


Worth It

by carrionkid



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Daryl has PTSD, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Post-Episode: s07e08 Hearts Still Beating, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Showers, but not in a sexy way
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-20
Updated: 2016-12-20
Packaged: 2018-09-10 16:22:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8923996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carrionkid/pseuds/carrionkid
Summary: This my idea of what happened before the reunion at Hilltop, gently inspired by the fact  that Daryl appears to be sopping wet during the reunion. Who the fuck knows if it's actually plausible for there to be a shower in those little FEMA trailers, but I wanted to have a shower angst thing. This is just Daryl having an emotional breakdown in the shower lmao.--When the first get to Hilltop, Paul leads Daryl over to his trailer. Maggie and Sasha are out, busy with chores and, knowing Maggie, pissing Gregory off. She’s a woman after his own heart, he’s gotta admit that. And Gregory deserves it. Despite the fact that Daryl was the one to drive them there, he’s trailing after Paul like a shadow. Paul digs out some clothes for Daryl, he’s considerably bigger than Paul and they probably aren’t going to fit that well, but he’ll be damned if he’s gonna leave Daryl in the tracksuit from Hell.Daryl holds the button-up and cargo pants, staring down at them like he’s not sure they’re really there. There’s an apprehensive look in his eyes, and Paul reassures him.“It’s okay, you can borrow them. We can go to Alexandria and get your clothes later.”





	

When they first get to Hilltop, Paul leads Daryl over to his trailer. Maggie and Sasha are out, busy with chores and, knowing Maggie, pissing Gregory off. She’s a woman after his own heart, he’s gotta admit that. And Gregory deserves it. Despite the fact that Daryl was the one to drive them there, he’s trailing after Paul like a shadow. Paul digs out some clothes for Daryl, he’s considerably bigger than Paul and they probably aren’t going to fit that well, but he’ll be damned if he’s gonna leave Daryl in the tracksuit from Hell.

 

Daryl holds the button-up and cargo pants, staring down at them like he’s not sure they’re really there. There’s an apprehensive look in his eyes, and Paul reassures him.

 

“It’s okay, you can borrow them. We can go to Alexandria and get your clothes  _ later.” _

 

Daryl makes a sound of acknowledgement and brings the clean clothes up to his chest, like he doesn’t want Paul to change his mind and take them back.

 

“I’m going to shower, you can too, after I’m done.” Paul starts walking as he says it, Daryl still follows him leaving a two foot gap between them. The shower is small, but it’s still semi-warm from the tiny solar powered heater. He doesn’t usually shower, just takes barely-above-freezing baths that use less water, but this is a special enough occasion to justify a shower. Paul slides the door to the trailer’s bathroom open and steps inside. There’s a small counter with a sink and mirror, a toilet, and a tiny shower. Daryl stands in the doorway.

 

He’s about to leave when Paul says, “You can stay, we can talk. If you want to.” 

 

Daryl makes a noise of agreement, then sits up on the sink counter. After turning the shower water as hot as it’ll go, Paul strips down in front of him like it’s nothing. Showers have always been hard for Daryl, they bring a feeling of being forced to confront himself. He sees bruises even where there haven’t been bruises for years. It’s hard not to think of his body as something broken, scarred up and awkward. It’s gonna be even harder when there  _ actually are  _ bruises there.

 

“When are you gonna go see Maggie?” Paul’s poking his head out of the back of the shower, checking to see if Daryl’s still there.

 

“Dunno.” It’s the most Daryl’s said since killing the Savior back at the Sanctuary.

 

“She’s missed you.” 

 

The guilt hits him hard. She  _ missed  _ him. Even after everything. Even after he killed Glenn, yeah, he didn’t wield the bat, but he still  _ killed  _ him. 

 

“It’s okay if it takes time,” Paul’s voice is soft, “You don’t have to rush it. She’ll understand.”

 

Steam fills the bathroom, Paul’s humming something under his breath and Daryl almost wishes that he could die right here and now, just so he wouldn’t have to deal with this inevitably ending badly. 

 

“You really should have a shower too. I’m finally starting to feel like a human being again, and not a dead man walking.” Paul pauses for a minute to let the joke sink in, then laughs because it’s a good joke and if Daryl isn’t gonna appreciate it, someone has to. 

 

He keeps the water running and steps out, grabbing one of the towels that are stacked on top of the toilet. He uses the towel to wring out his hair, then wipes down his legs and pulls on his boxer briefs and cargo pants. Daryl takes his shirt off while Paul isn’t looking; Paul wipes the mirror clean and Daryl tries his hardest to not let Paul see his back.

 

Daryl’s aware of the fact that he’s just been staring at himself in the mirror after Paul knocks his hip against Daryl’s.

 

“We match.” Paul points to the shiny circular scar above Daryl’s left hip, then to a puckered, almost circular scar above his right hip. 

 

The world snaps into focus and Daryl feels like he’s seeing it for the first time; Paul’s almost as scarred as he is and it looks so  _ natural _ . There’s a long scar that follows his ribs, it looks like a graze from a bullet; a thin line that Daryl guesses is about the width of a knife on his side; a faded cluster of tally marks on his upper arm that are almost hidden but not quite. Seeing them makes the cigarette burns on the back of Daryl’s hand ache and he almost says something. He’s still staring when Paul knocks his hip against Daryl’s a second time.

 

“Go shower, the water heater’s gonna give out if you wait any longer.” 

 

Paul pulls the shirt on and focuses on trying to dry his hair a bit more, still humming something that Daryl doesn’t recognize. He keeps his eyes closed and tries to focus on the humming instead of thinking about how exposed and vulnerable he is right now. The water runs almost black with all the dirt on his skin. The bullet wound in his shoulder stings as the water hits it and he realizes he should probably get it checked out.

 

“How’d you get it?” Paul’s voice cuts through the patter of water, “The round scar?”

 

Daryl stays silent, Paul adds on, “I got shot. That’s how I got mine. I found Hilltop when I was half dead and they thought I was a walker.”

 

Daryl lets out a small laugh, “Same shit happened ta me. Almost got shot in the head.”

 

Paul makes a noise of shock and Daryl laughs again, “Came outta the forest with a necklace of walker ears, tryna ward ‘em off, an’ a girl from our group thought I was one-a ‘em. Grazed the side-a my head with her rifle. Thank God she wasn’t a better shot.”

 

“How the fuck are you still alive?”

 

“Jus’ lucky, I guess... Or real unlucky.” 

 

They lapse back into silence, Paul doesn’t start humming again and Daryl can feel his paranoia swelling up, so he tries to fill the quiet.

 

“The circle scar’s from a crossbow bolt, accidentally stabbed myself. My friend’s little girl was missin’, I was out lookin’ for her and fucked up, got hurt. Had ta find my way back without gettin’ killed so they wouldn’t go lookin’ for me, too. That’s how I ended up gettin’ shot.”

 

“You’re a good person, Daryl. Not many people would go looking for a kid.”

 

“Didn’t matter much. She still died.” The panic is back, twice as bad, and Daryl can hear that Paul’s saying something, but he can’t make out what. He presses his side up against the wall of the shower stall, it’s cold and wet and definite. He slides down until he’s sitting on the floor of the shower and he’s stuck halfway between the prison cell and the shower stall. Daryl blinks and blinks, trying to figure out exactly where he is. The water hits his back, it’s cold now and he’s shaking.

 

Paul stops the water and pulls the shower curtain back, “It’s okay.”  

 

It’s not. It really isn’t. This is bad, this is really bad. Daryl still can’t tell where he is, the wall of wherever-the-fuck-he-is is damp and he can feel bile rising in his throat. Paul puts his hands on Daryl’s arms, as gently as he can.

 

“Hey, hey, Daryl, let’s get you out of here, okay?” Paul’s voice is soft and kind but it sounds far away. Daryl curls in on himself; this is pathetic, he’s breaking down and expecting a stranger to pick up the pieces.

 

“It’s okay, you’re safe,” Paul continues, his hands are moving along Daryl’s arms, “But you really need to stand up.” Daryl nods at him and Paul pulls the other man up into a standing position. Paul gets another clean towel and hands it to Daryl, who wraps it around himself and sways gently on his feet.

 

“I’m going to check on Maggie, okay?” Paul gets the feeling that Daryl wants to be alone, he opens the door as he says, “I’ll be back soon.” 

 

Daryl makes a noise to acknowledge that he heard the statement, then waits for Paul to shut the door. He dries himself almost robotically, it’s all muscle memory and he’s still barely aware of what’s happening. The room is clear in his mind now, it looks very definitely not like a prison cell and he’s not sure how he got the two of them mixed up in his mind. He pulls the clothes on, they’re a bit small but it’s okay. He steps out of the bathroom; Paul’s sitting on the small couch.

 

“Thought you were checkin’ on Maggie.”

 

“I was going to, but I was worried. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

 

“I’m--” He starts to say ‘okay’, but it feels wrong, he doesn’t want to lie, “Not sure.” 

 

Paul nods like that actually makes sense, “That’s fine. It’s hard to work through things like this.”

 

“Don’ worry, I’ve been doin’ this shit my whole life.” Daryl tries to swallow the comment, but it’s too late, he’s already said it and now he’s gonna get that sad pitiful look everyone gives him when they find out.

 

Paul looks sad, he glances down at the ground then back at Daryl, “That doesn’t mean it isn’t hard.”

 

Daryl sits down next to him on the couch, “Seems like it should be easy by now.”

 

“I don’t think it’s ever gonna be easy.” Paul looks at him, not quite in his eyes because he knows that makes Daryl nervous, “But that doesn’t have to be a bad thing.”

 

“I guess that makes sense.” 

 

“And I’ll help in any way I can.” Paul puts a hand on Daryl’s shoulder in an act of reassurance.

 

Daryl covers Paul’s hand with his own, “Thanks, I guess.” Paul’s nice, in the ‘genuine angel on earth’ kind of way. It’s strange, people that nice are usually dead or real good at hiding it nowadays but Paul just sort of radiates nice-ness. The nickname is kinda fitting, but he’s still not gonna call him Jesus. 

 

They stay there for a while, Paul’s hand on Daryl’s shoulder, just sitting in silence. Then, there’s shouting outside, Daryl flinches, but the tone of voice sounds almost happy. 

 

“I’m gonna go check it out.” Paul stands up, Daryl follows suit and stalks after him, still keeping a gap between them. They make it out into the common area of Hilltop and Daryl can see that it’s his  _ family.  _ They’re here to see  _ him.  _ Rick looks like he’s gonna cry, so does Michonne, but he doesn’t blame them since he’s pretty sure he’s crying too. 

 

Rick pulls him into a hug, Daryl presses his wet hair into Rick’s chest and he decides that yeah, this is gonna be hard to come back from, but, fuck, it’s worth it.


End file.
